Delicate
by MysticAutumn
Summary: After a strange convulsion due to stress, L is ordered by Watari to accept help from a stranger. Can he truly be helped? Can someone want to help? OCxL
1. first encounter

Hello Everyone,

I do not own Death Note. If I did, things would go a little differently.

I hope you enjoy this little story. Reviews are welcome =)

(please don't flame! Constructive criticism would be nice though!)

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><p>We stared at each other for a good five minutes. Watari shifted uncomfortably underneath my gaze and cleared his throat before speaking. "L, I have great respect for your accomplishments and abilities, and I have never questioned you on how you go about work…but you and I both know this is not healthy."<p>

He was referring to the incident of last night. I was working on a case in London. After two days of no sleep, I managed to track down a man who planned on blowing up Parliament. Nothing about this case was unusual; I approached it in my typical fashion and deducted my way to justice. After Scotland Yard received the information, I contacted Watari via lap top in order to tell him it was time for a new case. Before I could speak, however, my vision gave out and I felt my heart race. I was overwhelmed with fear, feeling my heart viciously beating my rib cage. I convulsed and woke up in the bed of the hotel I was in, with Watari looking at me in the arm chair in the corner.

"I refuse medical attention." I replied. I was certain that I was not a healthy individual. Incidents like that were not uncommon to me, little to Watari's knowledge. I did not consume anything but sweets and did not sleep. I discovered at a young age that I solved cases best when I was deprived of everything except sweets. If solving a case meant that I needed to sacrifice my health, then I was content with a few heart palpitations. Also, I was kind of afraid of needles.

Watari stared pensively before saying anything. "I understand. You do realize that the headaches you told me you have been experiencing… and your convulsion last night are both due to your stress levels?"

"Yes."

"In exchange for my assistance, I order you to allow a nanny to accompany you in your endeavors. She will monitor your stress levels and report to me if you are in danger. That way, I can immediately be notified of your status if you are unable to do so." Watari said, narrowing his eyes, waiting to hear my response.

He was not wrong. It was a distinct possibility that these convulsions would continue since the cause was not changing, whatever it was. I also cringed at the idea of having to keep track of an individual in order to protect my identity. However, if I refused, Watari would probably not assist me for at least a while, which was a major inconvenience. I figured he would already have some fabricated story to tell the woman in order to keep my identity safe. I knew he would not be foolish enough to find a curious female. She would probably be a matronly type with experience; someone predictable and simple-minded. The thought of being with someone else consistently made me uncomfortable, but until I could find a way to keep these palpitations under control without jeopardizing my methods, I did not have much choice if I wanted Watari's assistance.

"Fine, I agree to your conditions." I said.

Watari gave me a small smile before handing me her photo and background check. "I told her that you are my financially dependent son and I need someone to mind you while you are on holiday. I will take care of her expenses and such."

I nodded in his direction and returned my attention to the contents of the background check. Jennifer Davis. Female. 23 years old. Blood type: A. Height: 5'4". Weight: 115 Ibs. Graduated from Nottingham with a degree in Literature 2 years ago. Previously employed by catering services. Currently unemployed. Younger than I imagined. She graduated college early, proving some level of intelligence. This made me nervous, but I was immediately reconciled with the idea that she was probably not pursuing ambitious things due to some personal issues. Ms. Davis had no records of being institutionalized and was not on any medications, so the likelihood of her issues being harmful to me was reduced by 30 percent. I was prepared to stay wary, though. Her driver's license was surprisingly flattering. Heart shaped face with large violet-blue eyes, framed with a sleek curtain of chocolate-colored hair. I put the sheets of paper down and returned to my lap top. I decided to search for more information about this stranger, hoping that I would not find anything troublesome.

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><p><em>I couldn't imagine my luck as I stared out of the window in the taxi. What a gig! I was skeptical when I was contacted by Mr. Ryuuga. Who on earth would spend that much money? 500 dollars a day, all expenses paid for? Of course, six months was kind of a long time to be away from home. It was an offer that I couldn't just pass up, so we met at a little restaurant. He seemed fairly wealthy. He was also a gentleman; Mr. Ryuuga pulled my seat out for me and paid for the meal. He explained that his twenty-two year old son suffered from social anxiety and needed a nanny to watch him while he enjoyed his holiday. He put the down payment on the table before I could even accept.<em>

_"He is easily stressed. I warn you now; Hideki may start to convulse when he is pushing himself. "Mr. Ryuuga said, with a stern look in his face. "If anything should happen, call me on this phone immediately."_

_As he pushed the phone and the envelope with the money towards me, I suddenly started to question things. If your son has such health issues, why would you hire a random name on a babysitter list online? Why was his son still so dependent? Why was this man's last name Japanese? Am I getting into something bad?_

_Despite my senses, I smiled and tucked the money away in my purse. I finally had a way of repaying my mother for all of the money she gave me when I was in a personal rut after college. Mr. Ryuuga pulled out a contract and read aloud the contents: "You are not allowed to tell anyone where my son is staying, and if he says what he is working on is important, please do not interrupt him. That deeply troubles him when he is interrupted." I hesitated before I signed the agreement. What if I was being an idiot? What if something happens to me? I looked back up at the kind man's face and I realized that neither of those things mattered. This was my opportunity to get away from the place I was in life. I signed the sheet of paper and took a taxi with Mr. Ryuuga so I could pack my bags at my apartment. That's how I got here, in this taxi, staring up at a rather glamorous hotel. I hoped Hideki wouldn't be too unusual. I needed this._

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><p>I knew that the nanny was coming in an hour after Watari's message. I had already found information on her, but no criminal record. The only interesting thing I found on her was a series of photos of her, drunk out of her mind, sprawled about with other inebriated people. The dates of the photos were after her employment at the catering services but stop a few months before now. Her facebook statuses also did not seem out of the ordinary. I hacked into her inbox and found nothing except for casual conversations. She also did not withdraw or spend money in strange ways; she was fairly methodical, but not in a perfect way. I had already solved a few theft cases and was trying to decide which case I should start working on. I grunted as I walked to the pastry cart provided by the hotel. Where was Watari when I needed him to get me desserts?<p>

I heard Watari's voice and the door unlock in the next room. I grabbed a cupcake and shuffled out into the living room area. Watari and Ms. Davis stared at me from the door way. Her violet eyes widen a little before she recomposed her face into serenity. Watari closed the space between us and said, "Hideki, meet Ms. Jennifer Davis. She's that nanny I told you about. I hope you will get along. Remember to contact me before you decide to leave." He finished his introduction with a polite smile towards Ms. Davis.

Ms. Davis looked up at me, with an unreadable look in her eyes. "It's nice to meet you, Hideki. Just let me know whatever I can do to help you." She gave me a small smile and I found myself biting my thumb.

Watari said goodbye and left soon after. I decided to sit in the living room with Ms. Davis. She did not know what to think of me. I watched her as she sat down carefully, as if the seat would be offended if she did not do so. She was…more attractive, I'd say, in person.

"Why did you take this job?" I asked, shoving the cupcake in my mouth.

She stared at me with the same wide-eyed expression before, but answered quickly. "I have been out of work for a while now. The job pays well and I thought I might like the experience."

"Why do you not find employment in your field of literature?" I asked.

Ms. Davis narrowed her eyes into sharp slits. "Excuse me?"

My thumb was back in my mouth quickly. "You have a gap in your information. You were employed by two different catering services six months after your graduation. You left the services and have been unemployed for almost a year. It was during that year that you apparently drank with people you know, but why have you not found a place in your field of study? What happened in the six months that are unaccounted for?"

Ms. Davis began to grow visibly upset. Color flooded her face and she began to bite her lip. She stayed this way for a while, but an amiable smile transformed her face into a peaceful one. "To be honest, it's hard work to find a job with a B.A. in Literature! I also went through a little time of depression during those six months because of a bad breakup with a boy I knew. I hope that cleared up everything. Now, would you like me to make you something to eat?"

Interesting. She was not being honest about those months. That is why she took a moment to compose herself. However, there was no information on those months and I assumed it was probably a personal matter. I found it rather enjoyable to make her face red like that, though.

"Do you know how to massage, Ms. Davis?" I asked. "My feet are quite sore."

Ms. Davis looked at me, confused, and then looked at her purse. She shakily approached my seat and rested on the ottoman. "Very well."

I stiffened at her touch when she lifted my left foot and placed it in her lap. Her hands were shaking, but she applied pressure fairly well. She looked up to my face shyly, and an embarrassed flush crept up her neck. My objective was completed."So where are you planning on going next for your holiday?" She asked.

"I don't know." I said, withdrawing my foot and picking her foot up. I felt her stiffen as well as I removed her shoe. The crimson of her face deepened and I continued rubbing her foot until she was eventually comfortable with my touch.

She suddenly jerked away from my hands and quickly put her shoe back on. "You know what? I'll just make you something to eat in the morning. I will sleep on one of the couches. Please wake me up if you need me."

I did not understand why she was acting strangely, but then again, I didn't understand much about social interaction. I shuffled back into the bedroom, grabbed a spare blanket and pillow, gave it to her, and went back in to my room. Before I completely entered the room, I heard her say, "Call me Jenny."

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><p><em>I was completely shaken as I changed into my pajamas in the bathroom. What the hell was wrong with this guy? I didn't even know where to start. Who does that? Does he always ask his nannies to massage his feet? And why the hell was he so touchy? He was a bit of a creep. He wasn't very good at massaging, either.<em>

_He was the oddest looking thing, as well. He had messy onyx hair that looked like it would need a hundred hairbrushes to detangle. His eyes were a strange combination of black endlessness and emptiness, with the darkest circles I have ever seen under any pair of human eyes. His father was right about the stress thing, definitely. It wouldn't kill him to gain 15 pounds or so. I recalled him lightly biting his thumb, and shuddered a little. Was I comfortable sleeping in hotel rooms with this strange creature? I thought about the money. The joy on my mother's careworn face when she sees something to help her make ends meet. I thought about how nice Mr. Ryuuga was. Then I thought about why I was leaving in the first place. I cuddled up tightly against the couch as I attempted to get some sleep. I was comfortable enough to give him my nickname, after all. This was going to be an interesting holiday._


	2. Misunderstandings

W: "Five young women were found dead in Massachusetts in the past two months. Each victim suffered similar traumas. All were bruised on the arms and had been raped. Semen was found in all of them. Only the first victim had dead skin cells underneath her nails. All had traces of rohyphonal and alcohol in their systems. The cause of death on all victims was severe head trauma. No leads."

I received the message with great disgust. Quiet rage bubbled up inside me and my body grew cold. That was how I knew which cases I took; if I literally felt the need to bring the person responsible to justice. I needed to win…because justice must prevail. I immediately contacted Watari to go to New England. It would take Watari at least 8 hours to fly over there and find the MSP headquarters. He could probably get an escort if he contacted the MSP immediately. Before I could tell Watari to do this, he sent me a message, informing me that he already had some state troopers waiting for his arrival. Sometimes, it was truly strange how much he understood my logic. My flight was in 3 hours.

I had no access to the details of the cases, and was about to hack into the MSP…until Jenny decided to waltz in with a plate of French toast. Was it already morning? I looked at the clock on my computer. 7:00 A.M.

I closed the files on my computer and turned to face her on my chair. "Can I help you?"

"Uh, well…It's morning so I ordered you some food." She said, trying to not look at me. I figured that she found me repulsive, and every gesture she made provided more evidence for my assumption. Her hair was damp and wavy, and her face was much paler than it appeared yesterday or on her license. I found her more pleasing to the eye with her hair and face bare.

"Yes, I see that." I said. She shuddered a little before leading me to the kitchen table. I stalked behind her, seeing the flush creep up her shoulders. It was unfortunate that I could only make attractive women blush or shudder with disgust, but it was entertaining anyway. We sat down across from each other and she piled powdered sugar on the French toast before handing it to me. I took a bite and found myself enjoying it. Although French toast was not exactly something I found myself desiring (because it was not particularly sweet), Ms. Davis found an effective way to incorporate 10 grams of protein into my food intake for the day without removing the taste or any of the many calories I needed to burn. Impressive.

"Did you stay up all night?" She asked, looking at her plate.

I studied her lips before speaking. "Yes, why?"

Ms. Davis frowned and poured me a glass of sugary tang. She was providing me Vitamin C without sacrificing any sugar. I liked the way she thought. "I was told to make sure that you would not become too stressed, and I know depriving yourself of sleep is not exactly the way to go." She said.

"Why do you not look me in the face? I'm sure my father told you that I suffer from social anxiety, yet when I make attempts to be socially interactive with you, you close me off. Like last night, I only thought we were innocently passing time, but you pulled away from my massage. You then told me to call you a nickname. That is a sign of friendliness. Now you refuse to look at me. I want to know why." I replied, studying her face as I waited for an answer.

She seemed to be shocked by the question. The silence was eventually broken by her response. "To be honest with you, Hideki, I am also socially anxious. I do not like being with men alone, so I get extremely tense. I apologize for making you uncomfortable. I told you to call me Jenny because I knew you were trying to be friends and I did not want you to think of me as a cold person. I will try to look you in the face more often, and hopefully we will both break through our shells and become friends."

It was all so brilliant. This girl was not just a random choice of Watari's. He somehow understood that she was socially inept but also capable enough to undertake responsibility. Watari told me that she was very polite while they ate at a restaurant. She can pick up social cues in public, but when alone, she freezes up. All angles were accounted for. Because Jenny does not know how to act around men, she does not interfere or question anything I do when we are alone. This ensures that my work is safe. She can act normally when we are in public, so she does not raise suspicion. If a man were to threaten her for information, she would freeze up and not reveal anything crucial. She was also fully capable of contacting Watari if I could not. Does she act the same towards women? How did Watari know all of this about her if she never received mental evaluations? I planned on asking Watari those questions next time we were alone.

"Thank you for being so honest with me." I replied, taking a large bite of French toast before continuing. "I am planning on going to New England in a few hours. Do you like Boston?"

She smiled and looked into my eyes. My heart almost stopped. "No, I have never even left England. I'm excited to go with you. Maybe we can talk more when we take our flight."

I had mixed feelings about her statement. I wanted to get started on the case, but at the same time I wanted to learn about this new presence in my life. I studied every feature of her face, which lights up in a magical way when she smiles. The plane that we were going to use did not allow lap top usage, so I would be forced to wait anyway. I nodded softly in response to her statement and left the room to pack.

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><p><em>I was rather nervous on the plane. Hideki's father made sure we had first class seats, and the stewardesses were very polite, but I was still shaking. I looked at Hideki during the unpleasant take off. He was completely entranced in his own thoughts, completely oblivious to my discomfort. I couldn't believe I felt the urge to grab his hand for comfort. He probably would hold my hand in a delicate way and study it with his endless-but-empty eyes until he could understand what I was grabbing him for. I shushed my mean thoughts and closed my eyes. Should I say something? I regretted every nasty or judgmental thought I had about Hideki in the few hours since we met. He was just a socially awkward person, so who was I, out of all people, to judge him?<em>

_"Is something wrong?" Hideki said, breaking my thoughts._

_"Oh, no." I said, trying to look into his face. I realized that if he brushed his hair every once in a while, Hideki would be a decently attractive young man. Uh oh, my face was getting hot. His thumb went to his mouth. I had to divert his attention away from my face. "What is your favorite hobby?"_

_He stared at me even more intently as he answered. "I don't know. Probably internet surfing. I don't do all that much outside of that. You?"_

_I wanted to answer him, but I knew my face was blushing. I turned to look out to the clouds and shrugged. I waited for my skin to cool down before I turned to face him again, only for his face to be mere inches away from mine. The heat returned rapidly._

_"You said that you would try to look in my face more often" he said, his breath touching my lips._

_"I-I'm sorry. My favorite hobby is reading. I like being able to go into another world, even just for a little while" I replied quickly, noticing that he was starting to blush as well. How painful was our relationship going to be? I didn't know what to do. There were only two other people in the first class compartment. We were trapped by our shells._

_Hideki pulled away from me and I gasped a little for breath—I didn't realize that I was not breathing while he was close to me. He called the stewardess over for some sweets. She came over and asked us what we wanted. I soon found myself with some champagne and a sudden lack of inhibition._

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><p>It took jenny four glasses of champagne before she started to act differently. Every sentence she tried to speak overflowed with bubbly giggling. I found her laughter kind of cute. She tried to speak coherently but could only burst at the end of each few words with laughing. During one of her fits, she hit me with her shoulder. She stopped giggling and looked at me, slightly dazed.<p>

"I'm tired" Jenny whispered. She rested her head on the shoulder that she accidentally hit. Why was she acting like this? Did alcohol really go to her head?

"Jenny, did you know my father before he hired you?" I asked, hoping for an answer.

"No, I only met him a few days agooo" She replied, her voice wavering in coherence.

Before I could continue, she started snoring slightly. I could not ask her for anything. I couldn't work on anything. I found my head resting on hers. My thoughts become incoherent and I attempted to sleep.


	3. Connection

We arrived at Logan Airport at the expected time. Jenny was fortunately sobered up by this point, and looked rather horrible as we marched towards the exit. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her cheeks were ruddy. I decided that I disliked her when she drank; not only did she make me uncomfortable with her awkward giddiness, but was unpleasant to look at afterwards. She glared at me and the faintest snarl appeared on her lips as she asked, "What do you want me to get you at the coffee place here?" In a voice as rough as her appearance.

I did not appreciate her attitude. "I am not responsible for the hangover you inflicted upon yourself. Please get me something sweet," I said, in a voice that even I found monotone and frigid. "Maybe even a smiling nanny."

Her glare intensified before she grudgingly walked to the coffee place. I took this window of opportunity to survey the air port exits with my eyes. I found the limo driver by the door, and he immediately straightened his posture as he saw me. Watari must have given him an accurate description of my appearance. As he walked over, I found myself staring at Jenny's back. Was I really so unusual to people's eyes? To be honest, it was a depressing thought.

_I felt horrible in so many ways. How could I drink like that in front of Hideki? Now he must think I'm a drunkard, with the facebook photos he saw and everything. I actually possessed very little tolerance for alcohol; I just drank it to feel lifted. The sobering process was always painful, but never was enough to keep me away from those short moments of bliss. I scoffed as I swallowed a hard realization; I was a drunkard. _

_ The light was so glaring and…bluish. I couldn't stand it. I almost didn't hear the girl ask me what I wanted. I bought us some coffee and pastries and waited for her to come back. I had to close my eyes and try to ignore the pounding in my head. "I should apologize for being so mean" I thought. Hideki didn't deserve that treatment. The feelings that I got when I was around him were complicated; I felt curiosity, anxiety, confusion, pity, and a small amount of disgust. I was ashamed of it, but his eating habits and appearance were grotesque. I tried hard to hide my aversion to him, but it's much harder to do that when it feels like a hammer is slamming on her skull. This was the real me; a disgusting drunkard who was rude and vicious. _

_ Before I could continue throwing a pity party, a boiling cup of coffee burned through my shirt and I let out a holler of pain that I could hardly believe came out of my throat. "Oh my god I'm so sorry ms!" a man cried out as he fumbled for the napkins. I tried to pull the burning shirt away from my skin, but to no avail; I couldn't strip in public. I whispered "It's okay" as I whisked away with my order. As I walked away, I couldn't help but feel like I left something on that counter. _

Jenny returned to me, looking incredibly cross. I saw the steaming wetness on the shirt that she was pinching away from her torso and wondered how she could have been so unobservant as to miss that man who spilled the torture onto her. It could've very easily been avoided had she not been hung-over. Did drinking really limit her senses so?

She growled a little as she handed me her purchases and pulled at her church. I found it strangely…interesting. I brushed away the thought as the limo driver led us to the black vehicle. The drive was stifled. I thought it would be wise to let her compose herself. I chose not to initiate the conversation. I tucked my feet under myself as she squeezed the coffee out of her shirt.

"I'm sorry," She whispered. "You probably are. Aware."

Yes, I was aware. She had alcoholic tendencies. She drank until she was no longer sober the first moment she saw alcohol since we met, and drank to a stupor frequently throughout those months. Her tolerance, given her weight, should have been a bit more. This suggested that she was aware of her alcoholic tendencies and avoided the substance. How long she was aware was the main question. If she was aware during those six months, that would suggest a highly self-destructive personality.

"Yes." I said, hoping she would quench the question.

"I started drinking in college. I didn't really do it that much until I quit my job. I just thought we were partying. I didn't think that I was getting into trouble until I…" She said, memories clouding her eyes. "until I sat down with my dad and talked about it. If you can't deal with it I understand, but I promise that it won't be an issue."

Again, Jenny was lying to me. Due to her expression and the small, nearly undetectable break in her composure, the reason why she stopped drinking was not related to a discussion with her father. "Who was your father? What did he tell you? I will not fire you, but I need answers, understandably" I said.

Jenny gave me a small, uncomfortable smile. "My dad's name was Kurt Davis. He was a writer. He was very gentle with me and actually inspired my pursuit of literature. You might've read some of his articles or books? He was very much into conspiracy. He is no longer alive. He died of a heart attack a few years ago. He told me that he was concerned. He made me realize there was a problem."

My heart quickened. That was how.

That was how Watari knew.

I needed answers. When we got to the hotel, I rushed into my room and set up my computer as quickly as possible. Before I could contact Watari, the limo driver ran up and gave me a letter, with a large black 'W' ingrained on the front.


	4. Truth

Hi readers,

Hopefully you're all enjoying this! I have decided to assign songs that I use to help inspire the writing. For this Chapter: Eyes on fire-Blue foundation

Review please!

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><p>Hikedi,<p>

I'm sure you have been wondering why I chose Jenny as your nanny. Since her background will be essential to this case, I will explain as best as I can. Jenny is the daughter of Kurt Davis. He was a childhood friend of mine, and I spent a lot of time around Jenny when she was a young child. She was a very quiet and awkward child, and was suspected of having a social disorder early on. When I suspected her father of committing the cannibalistic murders of the 90's (that we unfortunately were asked to keep from the public. You could access the files if you wanted), I observed their household, waiting for Kurt to act. As I observed the family, I noticed Jenny's strange behavior. I thought she might have known her father's crimes, but based on her diary readings, I found that she was just a strange girl. Her father fell into a deep emotional rut, probably because he was not getting his regular thrill and was laying low (I found out later that he had a pattern: one month of murdering, 12 months of rest. I put the pattern I witnessed together with the pattern that I noticed from his previous crimes). During this emotional rut, her mother tried very hard to compensate his lack of income as a writer, by working multiple jobs. Jenny would walk home alone, eat alone, and never invited any friends over. She would pick up her father's empty bottles and sit in his room until he woke up. She had a deep affection for him. When her mother was out and her father was not awake, she would drink some of his alcohol. This behavior got periodically worse, until she would pass out drunk nightly. Her parents never noticed. Then, one day her mother Karin decided to try to get the neighbor's daughter to become friends with her. She did not suspect her daughter's drinking, but noticed that she was lonely. The neighbor's daughter began coming over; her name was…Anna Collier. She was the final victim of Kurt Davis. After about 3 months of their friendship, during a sleep over, Jenny offered Anna some alcohol. She waited for Jenny to fall asleep before she entered the bathroom to puke. The lights in the home went off, and I assumed it was going to be a typical night in the Davis household. At about 3 o'clock in the morning, I saw the light in the basement go on. I found this unusual, and left my perch in the neighboring woods and closely observed through the window. Davis was not in the main part of the basement. Luckily, I had watched the family use the key under the plant pot on their front porch, so I snuck into the home. I checked all of the rooms; everyone but Kurt and Anna were in bed. I went into the basement and found another door, locked. I braced myself and unlocked the door as carefully and quietly as possible with a bobby pin. I barely opened the door and saw the crime in action; Anna's skinned, dissected body was on a woodshop table, and Kurt was preserving her vital organs in jars for the fridge that he kept hidden in a nook of the wall. He had her heart on a cooking pan. I noticed that he did not skin her pelvic region, and the fact that he was not wearing pants and had blood on his privates suggested that there was rape involved. I pulled my gun and pointed it at the back of his head. Kurt's body stiffened and he turned slowly. Horror filled his eyes and his jaw dropped. Before I could do anything, he convulsed in a heart attack. I covered his mouth so he couldn't scream, and he died. I did not file this report. There was something strange about the murder. It was very spontaneous, despite fitting the pattern, because it was done at his home. Most of the murders appeared to have been at the location of the body. The marks of pelvic skins was identical, however, so there was no doubt in my mind that it was the same man. I noticed that he injected her with some type of anesthesia, which made her death painless. He never did that before. This murder was different. I buried Anna's body in the woods, cleaned the crime scene and Kurt's body, carried him to his bed, and searched his room in the basement. He had several letters, all seemingly from one man in Boston. These letters are the link to this current case.

I hope this explanation is satisfactory,

W.

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><p>Based on pure curiosity, I had several deductions and questions. Watari did not document the case due to a strange loyalty, and did not examine the house because he wanted to catch his friend in the act. That was the only way for him to actualize or believe that his friend was a murderer. Watari did a close examination on Jenny's character, but wanted me to use Jenny as a primary source for the murderer psyche rather than just a trustworthy nanny. Jenny did not recognize him because she was too young to remember his face or name when she originally encountered Watari. Jenny's alcoholism was not only related to her father's death, Anna's death, or her family problems. Something happened that made her revert to alcoholism for those unaccounted six months; I am even more certain of it now. I burned the letter, which I had already committed to memory, and began working on my case. I vowed to find all of the truths that Jenny kept inside: the truth about her father and the six months.<p>

Jenny walked into my room shortly after my personal vow. She had taken a shower and was in pajamas, even though it was only the afternoon. She looked much better than earlier. The natural, light blush of her cheeks was no longer ruddy, and her eyes, despite looking sad and tired, had their vibrant clarity again. Her fluttering, black fringed eyelids revealed a violet-blue stare that penetrated me with a look of emotional exhaustion. Her chocolate brown hair was not straightened as it was in her Driver's license, and I liked it this way. The chocolate waves, falling neatly and softly past her shoulders, had the strangest way of making me want to tousle them. It was distracting and annoying to find her attractive, knowing that she found me disgusting. Maybe she should be hung over all the time.

"Do you want me to make you lunch?" Jenny asked, pressing her fingers to her temples.

It bothered me to see her distraught. I took her hand, ignoring the electric jolt to my core, and walked her to my bed. I pulled up a chair and had her lay on her back as I massaged both of her feet. I did not look at her face the whole time; I learned from the little time I've spent with her that she did not like me observing her…or maybe she didn't like my face. Based purely on the way she hesitated, I could tell that she had aversions to my attempts at relaxing her. After a moment, she finally relaxed at my touch. I was expecting her to pull away suddenly like last time. I took this opportunity to look up at her face. Her arms were rested gracefully above her head. Her hair was scattered prettily around her face, and her eyes stared sadly at the ceiling. Tears were welling in her eyes.

"Hideki," She whispered. "Why don't you ever tell me anything about yourself? Like the trip, your life…the convulsions that you supposedly have. Why am I _really _here? Why do I feel like I'm in something bad? How can you touch me, just randomly, like I'm some massaging experiment? Why do I let you do this?"

The sun began fading, and the darkness fell over us, pressing on us both with it's strange, fearful presence.

" do you want to know?" I said. My voice sounded strange in the dark.

"The truth."

I knew that telling her the "truth" was not an option; it would jeopardize the case. I had to fabricate more lies, and keep track of them too. If I could fool most of the world, I could fool her. Detectives have a monopoly over the truth; we can lie and withhold facts for the sake of justice. My desire to know her truth was not just because of curiosity. I now knew that any information she had was relevant to stopping a murderer. She was no longer a curious subject that I spent energy on casually trying to figure out. In a way, she was my permanent interrogation suspect.

I stopped massaging her feet. Why did she let me touch her? Why did I want to? There was a reasonable explanation; to assess my dominance, I encroach and establish myself over her. There is a sexual, psychological aspect to that, and even I was indoctrinated in the system of domination. She had fallen asleep. I considered lifting her bridal style and carrying to her room. I leaned in to lift her, and she made a soft noise through her parted lips. The smell of her hair reminded me of strawberries and vanilla. I decided that it wouldn't be a good idea.

I took my lap top into the other bedroom of the hotel, and I messaged Watari. 'W' appeared on my screen right away.

"When will the letters come?" I asked, sifting through some of the Boston Police files on the case.

"They are being transferred to you now. " W said.

I felt strange as I read through each letter. The messages were coming from a man, Tyler Goodman. I searched online and could not find any possible matches. The codes that they used were mostly easy to figure out. Anna was mentioned in the last correspondence, I think. Tyler encouraged the murder, for the "guys", and offered refuge in Dublin with some of them if things go wrong. A network of cannibals? What did this have to do with the murders? It was then that I found the last message.

"A new diet is needed."


End file.
